


Black Widow

by MissMorland



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gun Violence, Murder, Poisoning, Violence, not all that violent tbh but i thought i'd better tag it just to be sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorland/pseuds/MissMorland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Confessions of a depraved murderess</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Widow

"I don't think I ever...planned on it. 

"I didn't ever marry a man with the intention of killing him. The first one, I planned to stay with for a while, I guess. But he was soooooooo boring."

Vriska Serket crosses her arms, sitting back in her chair. "He wasn't even interesting when I dated him. Always talking about his silly robots and whatnot." She smiles venomously. "But he was richer than God. Eighteen servants, a chauffeur, and a kitchen staff to boot, all in the largest brownstone I've ever seen in New York. I felt like a queen living in his house.” The smile fades. "Until, you know, I had to share the reign. And the king was boring as hell."

She fiddles with a sapphire ring on her left index finger. "This one was from him. He got me this instead of diamonds because he knew I liked the color blue." She scoffs. "Stupid man. And always so controlling. He had to have a hand in absolutely everything. He designed my entire bedroom--separate from his--and made everything blue. Blue curtains, blue bedspread, blue walls and blue throw pillows. It was absurd, the man had no eye for design. And he wouldn't let me change it."

She twists the ring on her finger. "Like I said. I got tired of sharing." 

She smirks. "The cook got arrested when they found the arsenic in his system." The ring slides over her first knuckle. "Her creme brûlée was always burnt anyways."

She lets the ring clatter on the metal table, the flawless sapphire refracting the dim fluorescent light. "That was the first one. Equius Zahhak." 

She sighs, looking at the dim fractals of light it throws on the table. "The brownstone was mine after that."

Vriska knits her brow in distaste as she fingers another ring, on her right index finger. "Cronus was next. Cronus Ampora."

She pulls the ring off, examining the large diamond critically. "He wasn't as rich as Equius, but he was rich. He at least bought me a decent ring when he proposed.

"Besides that, though, he was stupider than the first. And a liar and a cheat to boot, not that I really cared." She shakes her head in disgust. "He thought I didn't know what he was doing when he left the house every Friday night. Even being married to creme de la creme of the city, he couldn't stay away from those shady strip clubs. That was where he met his whore girlfriend."

She purses her lips, looking annoyed. "But like I said, I didn't care. He was rich, handsome, and decent in bed. I didn't care about anything past that, although his dimwittedness DID begin to grate on me after a few months." Vriska sits up primly in her chair, her arms crossed neatly. "So I took up with another man on the side. When I finally got tired of Cronus, and had convinced him to write me into his will, I killed him too." She smirks. "It was funny to see his mistress at the funeral. I introduced myself with a smile and excused myself with the finger. She had all these weird tattoos, but I guess that's what Cronus was into. He was always all over the "bohemian" girls, and the "retro" girls." She shakes her head, and places the ring on the table. "He was the second one. Never saw the bullet coming."

She leans forward slightly, hands still on the table, and taps the ring on her right middle finger. "The third one wasn't rich, but I could tell he was going to be. He was a fiend on Wall Street, he knew what he was doing there." She sighs, annoyed. "Unfortunately, Wall Street was about the only thing he was savvy with. Outside of stocks, he was moody and usually angry. Which I normally don't mind, I never drew out conversations with my husbands longer than I had to, but when he's constantly pissed at you for something..." She looks distinctly unbothered. "Not that I really cared, it was just annoying to watch him constantly sulking around the brownstone, with his hair in his eyes, even though I told him I liked it better pushed back." Despite the meaning of her words, her tone is distant and blank. "He never listened."

She smiles fondly. "He didn't listen when I told him the gun was loaded, either." 

She twists off the ring, a shiny gold band with three diamonds set side by side. "I told him I wanted silver," she sighs. She sets it on the table, in line with the first two. "Everyone knew he had a temper, so no one questioned it when I told them all he tried to shoot me first. Karkat Vantas died a suspected attempted murderer." She pushes the ring a little farther away with one finger. "Thus ended the third husband, who died as he lived: pissed off."

She laughs a bit at her own joke, and pulls the ring off her right middle finger. It looks precisely like the one her third husband gave her, except with a pretty silver band. "Kanaya listened," she said simply. She examines at the ring a moment, looking fond. "I met Kanaya because he was Karkat's personal assistant, did you know that? I suppose that's why he got to be an assistant, he knew how to listen and do as he was asked." She runs a finger along the ring pensively. A tiny smile appears on her face. "He always treated me like a princess."

The smile widens as she continues, enjoying the memories. "He called me princess, too, in his cute little Russian accent. He immigrated when he was eighteen and became a personal assistant on Wall Street." She taps the ring on the table rhythmically, remembering. "He wasn't rich when I married him, but I know a thing or two about those Wall Street observers. They pick up good instincts while they're watching their bosses do their work. I had a feeling he knew what to do, so I gave him some money and told him to invest it." Vriska smiles happily. "Within a year he'd quadrupled the investment. I wasn't wrong, he knew his stuff. His instincts really were good." Her grin turns devious. "More than just with money, too."

Her smile fades. She lets out an irritated sigh. "His instincts were too good, though. He came in one day when I was polishing the silver--I never let the maid do it, she'd have stolen it--and told me that he didn't believe Karkat would've gotten violent with me. He said that wasn't the man he'd known." She fiddles with the ring a bit. "That time he wouldn't listen, no matter how many times I told him he was mistaken." She smiles blandly. "Should've known better than to interrupt me when I was polishing knives."

She sets the ring on the table, more gingerly than the others. "I slipped some silver into that cheeky maid's bag. Damara got accused of both theft and murder." Vriska leans forward and taps her lip thoughtfully, staring into space, then speaks. "I think she's still in, actually." 

She repositions herself, and exhales as she looks at the second ring on her right index finger. "Sollux was fifth."

Vriska twiddles with the ring, gold set with a huge white diamond. "He was a tech mogul. Programmer for Google, he was crazy high up. Richer than a lot of the men I'd been with." She smiles again, like a tiger whose prey stood before her. "The best part was, he didn't care that he was rich. He lived in a studio apartment practically devoid of furniture. The only thing expensive in his house, besides the plasma TV, were his laptops, and even then he was obsessive about the models he had and wouldn't trade them for anything." She grins wider, relishing the memory. "The money was just there for the taking. So I took it, after he bought me this, of course." She takes the ring off and taps it on the table. "I told him exactly what I wanted and he got it for me. It was the same when he moved into my brownstone." She smiles. "It was like having a pet. He didn't eat much, didn't take up much space, just stayed in his "study" with his computers all day." She giggles out loud, gleefully. "And I got to spend all his money." A pause. "Well. Most of it." Another snake-like smile. "I got the rest of it when he died."

Against all reason, she giggles again. "Do you know they're not kidding when they tell you on hairdryer tags not to drop it in the water, or you'll die?"

She sets the ring on the table. "Coroner ruled it a suicide. Easiest one yet." 

Vriska hesitates over the next ring. It's on her right fourth finger, a pretty one with a silver band and a big white diamond, with small sapphires set on either side of it. All the rings are well cared for, but it's clear this one she prizes above all the rest, with its luster and beautiful shine. 

When Vriska speaks, she sounds more hesitant than she has all evening. "John."

She forces herself to settle her hands again. "I never meant for him to die," she says, trying to stay businesslike. "John was the only one I loved. He was sweet, and...not like the others. He was genuinely interested in me, in what I had to say, and not just my money. He asked me what I liked and listened to my answers. Not just my…” she hovers over the word ‘orders’ “...requests. He wanted to hear my thoughts." She clears her throat, realizing she's rambling. "He bought me my favorite ring. It cost him almost a year's salary." 

She realizes this needs explaining. "John didn't work much. He always wanted to be a writer--he was writing odd jobs when I met him, commissions, working on his own projects in his free time. But he was an heir, which was what let him live comfortably before his career took off." She shifts subconsciously, leaning on her arm more as she speaks fondly. "I didn't care much until he started writing for me. It didn't matter what it was--poetry, love letters, elaborate descriptions of the smallest things about me he found intriguing. He was constantly leaving me notes around the house. I loved it." She drops her shoulders with a sigh, a 'what can you do' gesture. "I loved him." 

Vriska leans forward again, a slight smile glowing in her eyes, usually so cold. "About a year after we got married, his work really got noticed. A few major publishers were showing interest. John was ecstatic. Even I was fairly excited for him." She smiles in earnest now. "One publisher asked him to meet with some people up in Albany. John was frankly a little reluctant to go." The smile dims. She blinks long, her eyes wanting to stay closed, remembering. "There had been a series of break-ins in our neighborhood. He didn't want to leave me alone. But I told him I could handle myself, I was a big girl. He left a few days later, late in the afternoon."

Her smile fades. "That night I heard someone in my bedroom." 

She's quiet for a long moment. "But, I was prepared." Pause. "I'm always prepared."

She clarifies before anyone has a chance to ask her. "I always keep a handgun at my bedside. I heard someone in my room, woke up, and saw someone at the side of my bed. I grabbed the gun and shot him twice. Dead-on, both straight in the head. 

"And when I turned the light on..." Vriska swallows. "There was John. In a pool of his own blood. Dead."

The lights flicker. A fly buzzes around the fluorescent tube bulbs. Outside the room, muffled voices speak in hushed tones about something the people in this room will never be concerned with. And Vriska is quiet.

Her jaw tightens, steeling herself to finish. "I hid his body. A sixth dead husband with my name attached to the body would raise suspicion."

Vriska's next words are practically inaudible. "He's buried in the woods outside Brooklyn. Somewhere." 

Vriska falls quiet. Opens her mouth to say something. Shuts it. Tries to clear her throat, and slides the ring off jerkily to place it on the table. Under her breath, she mutters, "fuck."

She sits quietly for a moment, staring at the ring. Her eyes stay noticeably dry, but still trained on the bright gemstones. A thousand scenes seem to be playing behind her eyes. The fly buzzes closer to the light.

Abruptly, she speaks again, too loud. "The next one," she says. She lowers her voice. "Was Tavros."

Vriska's face suddenly twists in horrific malice, pulling a sparkling diamond ring from her right index finger with no finesse. "I guess I thought another mellow guy might be a bit like John. I thought maybe I could find one like him. But I didn't want a stupid pansy for a husband." She lets the ring clatter to the table, watching it with disgust. "Such an idiot, too soft for his own good. It was disgusting. Always spitting out these stupid sappy phrases at me." She raises her voice to a mocking falsetto, rasping a bit. "'You really take my breath away, Vris!' Who the hell would call me Vris?" She laughs derisively, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "When John did it, it was cute. When John told me stupid cheesy things, it...worked somehow. But not this fucking pansy." She shakes her head bitterly, talking fast. "'You take my breath away, Vris! You take my breath away!' Such a fucking idiot! So fucking weak!!" She's practically screaming now, her hands clenched into fists on the cold metal table. She bangs them along with her next words for emphasis "And he never--ever--SHUT UP!"

The room falls deathly quiet. Vriska isn't even breathing, looking down at her fists, which have just stopped quivering by her impressive self control. Or rather, once-impressive self control. The fly makes a worrying sizzling sound.

She relaxes her fists slightly, lets out a breath. And another. And another until she chuckles quietly. 

"Wanna know what I did?" she asks. 

Vriska looks up at the two officers, smiling. "I took his breath away," she hisses, like it’s a secret for only these two men. Then she giggles. 

"I strangled him myself," she said. "No one doing my dirty work now. I took him out to Central Park and strangled that poor pathetic bastard. God, he pissed me off." She knocks his ring to the floor with one finger. It makes a small, near insignificant "ting" sound each time it makes contact with the concrete. 

The room has fallen quiet again. Vriska takes a moment to catch her own breath, draw herself back into her regal figure. When she looks back at the officers, she's smiling again. 

"My eighth husband," she says, as though nothing odd has happened, "was Eridan Ampora. Cronus' younger brother, in fact." Her tone is suddenly frighteningly conversational, as though she were describing fabric patterns or perhaps the weather. "I suppose I was done with nice boys by that point. I was done trying to find love. Eridan was rich as his brother and far easier to manipulate. He had a massive inferiority complex to his brother. All I had to do was compare him favorably to every other man, and he was mine." Her smile is reptilian. "He didn't know much but was eager to learn, particularly when it came to matters of a lady's bedroom. I liked that about him." As she takes off the last ring, the one on her left ring finger, she lets out a contented sigh, as though she's finished talking. 

But something’s wrong. A gaping hole in her story. The younger officer is the one to speak up. 

"When you say 'was'--" he adjusts his glasses, looking at a file. Then at his partner. Then back at Vriska. "Eridan Ampora is still alive."

Vriska's smile at that moment could chill bones. She makes a big show of checking her watch, then turns her smile back to him. "Oh no, I don't think so. Unless your people have preempted my actions and pumped his stomach, which I doubt would help anyway, I'm quite sure the potassium cyanide in his tea has finished him off by now." 

The fly makes a sick popping sound and falls onto the table. The officers are silent, frozen, horrified.

Vriska is quiet for a moment. "He did like his Earl Grey."


End file.
